


The time we have

by andIwillwrite500more (prototyping)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Azure Moon route but she lives, F/M, Fade to Black, Fluff and Angst, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Sharing Body Heat, as usual, mild body horror, they are a sad mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/andIwillwrite500more
Summary: Something dark flickered over Edelgard’s expression. “It isn’t about trust,” she rasped. Despite the frailty of her voice, there was a heavy and commanding weight in it that he recognized. She paused, frowning, and then wrote down,There’s nothing you can do. You need to trustme.His grip tightened on the arms of his chair. “I want to, El. But if you can’t even tell me how you’re hurting, how can I?”[In which Edelgard survives Enbarr, but her desperate methods weren’t without consequences.]
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 9
Kudos: 76





	The time we have

**Author's Note:**

> So this ended up pretty fluffy, rather than full angst like I intended. 🤔 I wanted to make the romance the focus and I used the softhearted bias of Dimitri’s POV to do so, and as a result I think I succeeded a little _too_ well in pushing the ugly complexity of their dynamic into the background lmao.
> 
> This was a spur-of-the-moment idea I tossed out for Halloween-time, but I might try for a version from El’s POV that’s more down-to-earth with regards to her feelings and her, you know, crimes. Or maybe I’ll leave this be and start writing more dark and messy Dimigard stuff like I’ve been wanting to lately.
> 
> Today, I bring you fluff. Tomorrow? Who knows.

The first sign was her silence, although the uneasy looks of her maids probably should have tipped him off sooner.

Dimitri spoke to her often after Enbarr, briefly at first while she recovered, and then more at length as time went on, first at her bedside in the medical wing of Castle Fhirdiad, and then in the large and well-furnished bedroom that served as her prison. Edelgard didn’t ignore him. She made eye contact, she listened, she reacted with nods and mild expressions. She never spoke, however, nor made any sound.

He rarely saw her out of the plush armchair near the fireplace, and even on the warmer days in the capital, the fire was always blazing. He would sometimes bring her scheduled tea or meals with him to save the staff a trip, but despite the maids’ assurances that she was eating, Edelgard never did so in front of him. She remained seated in her chair, a heavy wool blanket wrapped tight around her, and she wouldn’t budge until he left.

When nearly three weeks passed with no change, he decided to voice his concerns.

“If I make you uncomfortable, you can say so. I can have a knight deliver news in my place.”

Edelgard shook her head lightly. That was a relief, but only to an extent.

“...Will you still not speak to me, El?”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked towards the fire, but there was something solemn in the expression. Her arms shifted restlessly beneath her blanket and she sighed through her nose.

Dimitri felt like a fool as something suddenly occurred to him.

“ _Can_ you speak?”

She looked at him. She seemed to search his face thoughtfully for a moment before finally nodding. Before he could decide whether to push his luck for more of a response than that, she opened her mouth.

“I can.”

It was a hiss, the stuttering rustle of dead leaves, the rasping groan of something unwell. It took him a moment to realize that it _was_ her voice, and then another for the garbled noise to register in his head as words. Her face was neutral, but he would be surprised if the effort hadn’t pained her throat by the sound of it.

“I’m－I’m sorry, El, I didn’t－”

She shook her head again, more vigorously. _Don’t apologize_ , it said.

The next morning, Dimitri sought out Mercedes. She had been one of the healers he trusted to tend to Edelgard after the battle and the only one who checked on her periodically now. He knew she would speak to him plainly.

“Is Edelgard truly alright? Not only her battle wounds, but…”

When he didn’t finish the thought, Mercedes smiled at him gently. “She’s in good health. Whatever methods she used on herself in the Empire… well, the effects didn’t simply go away altogether. I can’t say if they ever will, and she doesn’t seem to know, either. But her vitals are strong and she’s about as healthy as you or me now.”

“Effects?” Dimitri echoed with a frown. “You mean her voice?”

“Mm.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry, but if you want to know more, I think you should ask her yourself. I don’t think it’s my place to speak for her.”

He smiled and thanked her with genuine gratitude, but his concern grew. Even if Edelgard wasn’t in danger, it worried him that she was so closed off. She hadn’t objected to his visits and she seemed interested in at least some of the things he had to say, and yet… While he had expected some manner of bitterness to linger between them, her behavior combined with Mercedes’ words worried him.

The next time he visited, Edelgard surprised him by partaking in the tea he brought. He caught her eyeing the tray and tentatively asked if she wanted a cup. When she nodded, he made quick but careful work of steeping one of the tea bags before passing her the drink, which she slipped one arm through her blanket to hold.

That gave him hope. Perhaps he hadn’t offended her the other day. Maybe they were making strides, a little at a time.

He was talking about the latest developments in the Leicester territories when her cup suddenly shattered in her fingers.

It startled them both, judging by her expression. He was on his feet and beside her in a heartbeat to take the broken bits of porcelain from her and pass her a napkin. She pushed her blanket back and wiped at her knees, but when he grabbed a second one to help, she actually recoiled and pushed herself further back into the chair.

_“Don’t.”_

It was hard to tell whether it was angry or defensive or something else entirely. She was wearing a long-sleeved and ankle-length gown, not at all indecent, and he thought he had proven himself to be non-threatening, so he couldn’t fathom the weight of her reaction. It stung slightly.

Seeing his face and the way he’d immediately gone still, Edelgard appeared to collect herself. She relaxed, frowning with a small shake of her head, and surprised him with a terse apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Dimitri nearly winced. She still showed no signs of discomfort, but her voice sounded so _painful_.

He watched her dab at the tea splattered across her lap.

“Can I get you another blanket?” he offered after a pause.

A nod.

He did so, taking the wet one before helping her to wrap the clean one around her shoulders.

“Did you cut yourself?” he asked. She shook her head. He crouched down in front of her and crossed the blanket over her chest, bundling her back up the way she usually liked. “Good,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and he could guess what she was thinking－it was only a teacup, nothing to worry about－but he met her gaze with a serious look.

“El. I hope you know that I… that you need not hide anything from me.” His hands settled on her arms without him realizing it. He could barely feel her through the thick blanket, anyway. “If there’s ever anything you want to tell me, it won’t leave this room. And I will never think less of you.”

Edelgard stared at him impassively. He didn’t expect much in the way of a response, so he was surprised again when she nodded.

After that, he decided to change the content of their one-sided conversations. Updates on the territories were clearly of interest to her, but he’d always gone on longer than what was probably necessary to try to fill the silence, and because he was wary of talking about anything more personal than that.

But when he took a chance and talked about the past, Edelgard listened attentively. He recalled what he could of their time together as children－some moments still shone brightly in his memory, others had faded with time, but even the vague recollections were warm in their own way. Sometimes she reacted, smiling faintly or appearing surprised as she was reminded of something forgotten; at other times she frowned lightly or stared off at nothing and he knew she couldn’t remember.

She began keeping a quill and some parchment on the table between them, writing out longer replies when she didn’t want to push her voice. That was how he noticed the state of her hands: she had scars on her palms like any experienced warrior, but what drew his attention was how sickly her skin looked. It was drawn tight around her knuckles and gave her fingers a bony, malnourished look－and yet her face was full and healthy. He could also vouch for her eating her meals now, so the contrast was striking.

One evening, when the conversation lagged and they’d been sitting in comfortable silence for nearly a minute, Dimitri asked directly,

“If I may ask… is talking uncomfortable for you?”

_Sometimes,_ she wrote.

“Do you think it’s improved at all?”

_I believe so. I can speak a little longer each time before it bothers me._

He wondered whom she’d been speaking with to come to that conclusion. Herself, just to practice? Or did she actually converse with the maids, or Mercedes, despite how silent she remained around him?

Catching his expression, she hesitated, and then wrote haltingly for a long moment before turning the paper around for him to see. _I don’t know if it will return to normal. I don’t know what the long-term effects of those methods will be, either. But I’m alive and well._

There it was again: _effects_. Despite that last line, which was probably more for his comfort than her own, Dimitri ventured cautiously,

“Are there other… symptoms, as well?”

Edelgard lowered the paper, but she didn’t reach for the quill. She glanced aside, her expression clouded.

“Forgive me,” he added quickly. “It’s－not my intention to pry. But if you’re suffering in any way, El… you can tell me, and I will do everything in my power to help you. I swear it.” If she needed doctors, healers, even mages versed in whatever dark magic she had dabbled in, he would scour the edges of the continent, and beyond, for her sake. She need only tell him what she required.

Again, she took her time in writing her answer.

_I appreciate the concern, Dimitri, but there’s nothing to be done. Normal people won’t know anything about this, and those that do won’t be found until they choose to be. I’ll be alright. I did this to myself knowing full well that I was taking risks and I_

He stopped reading.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing to be gained from suffering in silence.”

_It isn’t what you think._

“Then _tell_ me. Explain it. Please,” he added, trying to soften his outburst. “Or if you don’t trust me, tell me who－”

Something dark flickered over Edelgard’s expression. “It isn’t about trust,” she rasped. Despite the frailty of her voice, there was a heavy and commanding weight in it that he recognized. She paused, frowning, and then wrote down, _There’s nothing you can do. You need to trust me._

His grip tightened on the arms of his chair. “I want to, El. But if you can’t even tell me how you’re hurting, how can I?”

His tone was more pleading than accusatory. Edelgard held his gaze for the longest moment yet. Then she looked down, sighing softly.

Instead of replying, she set the paper and quill down and climbed to her feet. For a moment Dimitri thought it was her way of telling him the visit was over－but she held his gaze steadily and pushed the blanket off her shoulders. It fell to the floor. As he watched, she began unbuttoning the front of her gown.

Stunned and confused, he said nothing. Only when he caught a glimpse of the shadow of her cleavage did he finally snap out of it. “El, wait! What are－”

The gown fell open a little wider and his voice caught. He squinted, trying to understand what he was looking at, but Edelgard kept going, finally loosening the garment enough to slip it off her shoulders. It hung on her arms around her waist, leaving only her brassiere between her skin and his stare, but that wasn’t where his gaze was focused.

Contrasting sharply with her pale white skin were patches of dark brown, nearly black in some places. The spots were different sizes, different haphazard shapes, with no pattern that he could discern, scattered over one breast but not the other, down both arms, slanted across her flat stomach, and completely wrapped around her left side.

Dimitri stood slowly, unable to take his eye off her. “El…” He took a step closer and the firelight struck her skin just right: the dark patches shimmered like scales.

Her arms tightened around herself as he moved even closer, but she didn’t retreat or even look away. He stopped in front of her as the grim realization hit him: she hadn’t returned to her original form, after all. Not completely.

This close, he noticed other details, as well. Like her hands, her skin was stretched taut over her body’s angles. It looked thin around her shoulders and collarbones, her ribs, her elbows, almost transparent in places. Around the center of her chest, the flesh looked warped and wrinkled, as if burned, except there was no discoloration to it.

And then there were the scars. Thin, faded, they seemed to run over every inch of her with unnerving precision. They had clearly been inflicted by a very steady, very intentional hand.

He wasn’t sure what to say. What _could_ he say?

He found his voice. “Are you… Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Why did you hide it?” It was difficult to fathom. He had seen her in a much worse state, after all. As she was now, it looked… concerning, but if she spoke honestly and it caused her no pain, why had she been so reluctant to explain it to him? How could he help her if he didn’t know about it?

She looked away again, pressing her lips together. “It hasn’t progressed,” she told him in a scratchy whisper, ignoring his question. “It’s the same as it’s been since Enbarr.”

Dimitri glanced over her patchwork skin once more, slower this time. After the initial shock, it wasn’t difficult to look at. Concern still sat heavy in his chest, but he wasn’t repulsed; on the contrary, the scales and blemishes emphasized how soft the rest of her looked.

He suddenly wondered how the different textures would feel beneath his hands.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said quietly, “and I thank you for confiding in me. But… even if it isn’t causing you physical pain, I can tell it bothers you. If there’s anything I can do…”

“That’s not why I showed you. I did it so you would understand.”

“Understand…?”

“Who I am now.” Her voice cracked, but the strain seemed to be that of speaking too much rather than anything emotional. “We can reminisce all we like, and maybe you’ve found it in yourself to forgive me for everything I’ve done… but you can’t bring that girl back from the dead, Dimitri. And I can’t pretend to be her.” Despite her blunt honesty, her expression was sympathetic. Soft. “I’m... not saying you aren’t welcome. But you need to open your eyes and see me for who I am _now._ ”

Dimitri held her gaze for a few beats—the assurance that he was listening to her, but he also needed the time to build up the courage to ask, “And who are you now, Edelgard?”

She smiled half-heartedly, wistfully. “Just… the monster you see before you. Anyone else could have told you something so obvious.”

Something in him tightened painfully, angrily.

“I don’t accept that,” he said gruffly. “You’re you, El. Even if your body hadn’t changed back at all, you would still be you. I would still—”

He caught himself. He hesitated, gathering his wits before speaking again.

“Ever since we parted as children, I’ve always looked forward to seeing you again. Regardless of the circumstances or the reason, you’ve always been…” He searched for the right words. “...a crucial part of my life. Now that I’ve found you again, it will take so much more than this—” He looked at her chest. “—to make me avert my eyes from you.”

Edelgard’s stare was cool, calculating, and he had the impression that she was forcing the former. Then she sighed again.

“What’s even more ridiculous is that I know you’re being honest.”

He almost chuckled. “Is it so hard to believe?”

Another shake of her head. “Not when it’s coming from you, no.”

He smiled hopefully, sadly. “I don’t expect us to live the lives we once did. Too much has changed. But while I’ll always remember that little girl fondly, that doesn’t mean I have to be a stranger to the woman she grew into.” He searched her eyes, seeking—hoping—for a glimpse of what lay behind the walls she’d kept so stubbornly erected. “If you think I can’t see you as you are, then help me. I want to know you. I want… I want a future with you in it.” He glanced again at her bare skin. “...And I _don’t_ want you thinking you ever need to hide any part of yourself from me again.”

“...You’re too forgiving. And far too trusting.”

“Perhaps. But I am confident that I know a monster when I see one. You couldn’t be farther from it, inside or out.”

Now her stare was the searching one. “Can you lie with a straight face now?”

“I mean that,” he insisted with a frown. “I disagree with your methods, but I understand them for what they were. In your own way, you were trying to rid the world of the monsters you knew.”

He was, perhaps, being somewhat hypocritical. To this day he would not deny his own monstrous thoughts and actions in the past, regardless of his intentions at the time. And yet… while he saw some of himself in Edelgard, the heartache and the anger that had driven her forward, he had the impression that she had hardened herself beyond the simplicities of right and wrong. At his lowest, Dimitri had hurt and killed despite the cry of his conscience; in contrast, he wondered if she had managed to silence hers entirely when she blurred that line between death and sacrifice, until she was no longer capable of seeing the sin in her actions.

Which of them, then, was truly more monstrous?

“I cannot speak for everyone,” Dimitri added after a moment. “But here, now, I speak for myself.”

That was all that mattered to him—not what the world thought of her, not yet, but only what he could do. If she would let him.

Edelgard was silent as she stared at his chest. Her hands rubbed at her arms in small motions and he noticed goosebumps on the normal parts of her skin. Was she actually cold in a room this stiflingly warm?

“You want to know me,” she repeated. It wasn’t a question, but she seemed to take his silence as an affirmative answer. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’ll tell me, El.”

After that, she told him a lot.

She preferred to speak rather than write, especially when mentioning names and places, but the state of her voice forced their conversations to be brief and spaced out.

She told him about the Empire and its corrupted roots. She told him about her scars and the people who had left them, the mystery of her dead siblings, the source of her information and power during the war.

After letting Dimitri cool his head for a day, she told him about the other side of the Church’s history and why she’d sought to destroy it.

Over the next week, she told him everything.

He spoke little during those conversations, occasionally asking for clarification but mostly sitting and listening. Thinking.

After gathering his thoughts for an evening, he returned to her the next morning to talk more in-depth. It was nearly the middle of winter now, with the temperature dropping dangerously low even during the day. The castle was kept warm with dozens of fireplaces as well as spells, but non-natives of Faerghus could easily be spotted by their failure to disguise their discomfort.

Edelgard was no exception. Despite two thick blankets, a roaring fire, and heavy drapes protecting her windows against the chill outside, Dimitri found her shivering almost violently in her chair with her cheeks flushed. She looked dazed, turning towards his voice when he spoke her name but otherwise unresponsive. He tore off his glove and felt her forehead, but instead of a fever, he found her skin cool to the touch.

After ringing for a servant and sending her off to fetch a doctor, Dimitri picked Edelgard up as delicately as he could manage. He carried her to the bed and drew the heavy blankets over her, and then sat beside her to wait.

The doctor came. He examined her in silence, since she was now totally unresponsive, and questioned Dimitri briefly before sending for a second doctor, a healer, and lastly Mercedes, who smiled at Dimitri reassuringly when she arrived and asked him to wait outside.

The prognosis was a troubling one: Edelgard’s body was having difficulty retaining heat. She had apparently told Mercedes before that she suffered a lot of cold spells in the castle, hence how hot she kept her room, but nothing this severe. The doctors suggested that the sharp drop in temperature outside, while felt only mildly by most of those in the castle, was affecting her more acutely.

“I can move her to another room,” Dimitri offered immediately. “The royal family’s quarters are warmer than the guest areas due to their location.” Not by much, he didn’t think, but it was worth trying.

“That would be best, Your Majesty. I can’t say I've ever seen a case like this, but I’m confident that you’re in no danger of _over_ heating her. Anything you can provide would do her good until we determine the cause.”

“You’ve truly no leads, then?”

The doctors exchanged looks, and then glanced at Mercedes, who asked, “Dimitri, has Edelgard told you anything regarding her health lately?”

“If you’re referring to the state of her body, then yes, somewhat. I’ve seen it.” Panic swelled in his chest. “Has something happened?”

She shook her head. “She told me just recently that it still wasn’t bothering her. I think she was being honest, but I also think it may be related to what she’s going through now.”

“It’s as though…” The doctor trailed off, appearing to choose his words. “To be honest, her physiology isn’t unheard of—for a human, yes, of course, but… With all due respect to Her Majesty,” he added, glancing at Dimitri uncertainly, “this sort of aversion to low temperatures, as well as the lethargy, is commonly seen in reptiles.”

Dimitri stared at him, his frown a puzzled one. Yes, he supposed he could see the similarities, but what did that…?

The memory of her bare skin flickered through his mind—how thin it seemed, and the patches that looked unmistakably like scales.

The pieces clicked into place, but he wasn’t sure what picture they formed.

“At any rate,” the doctor continued, “I think Your Majesty’s suggestion is best. I recommend keeping her in the warmest room and doing all you can to keep her temperature high—blankets, fires, warm drinks if she can manage it. I will contact some colleagues of mine and see what information I can find. I will of course keep you updated.”

Grimly, Dimitri nodded. “Please do. Thank you.”

There wasn’t much to move other than Edelgard herself. While maids gathered her clothes and what few personal effects she’d come to possess here, Dimitri sent another servant to prepare the queen’s suite. It was a bedroom connected to his own by a single door, which would allow him to be nearby, just in case. He’d considered taking her into his room directly, giving her the bed while he took to one of the couches, but the more unsavory rumors he could avoid for her sake, the better.

He carried her there soon after, Mercedes in tow. The queen’s room was cozy enough despite having been unoccupied for so long, the crackling fire alone doing much for the atmosphere. Again Dimitri put her gently to bed and covered her up. She was still unconscious, her face impassive. It was better than being wracked with pain, but even so…

Mercedes touched his arm. “You know better than anyone how strong she is. Just believe in her, Dimitri.”

He managed a small smile and nodded. “I will. Thank you for coming, Mercedes.”

“Of course. Now, why don’t I sit with her for a while? I’m sure you have a thing or two to take care of.”

As much as he wanted to object, he knew she was right. His usual workload notwithstanding, he wanted to get a letter off to Byleth as soon as possible, to request information on any leads he or the Church might have on doctors specializing in magical maladies.

“I would appreciate that greatly. I’m sorry for imposing further upon your time.”

She giggled warmly. “Not at all. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Nothing had changed, it seemed, when Dimitri relieved her a couple hours later. As late as it was, he ended up sitting in a chair at Edelgard’s bedside for a while after that, sometimes watching her sleeping face but often staring off into space with dozens of thoughts shuffling through his head.

He was stirred from a light doze by the sound of movement. He blinked awake to see Edelgard rolled onto her side towards him, curled in on herself and shivering. It wasn’t as bad as before, but it was troubling. He stoked the fire, tossed another couple logs on, and then returned to her bedside, feeling utterly helpless as he watched her.

He touched the back of his hand to her cheek. She was more lukewarm than cold, at least. Her head twitched towards his touch briefly, but she otherwise didn’t stir. Cautiously, he brushed some loose strands of hair from her face, and then swept his thumb lightly across her cheek.

What was he doing?

He frowned at himself and withdrew, sitting back in his seat. He was tired and stressed, but that was no excuse for－

“Dimitri.”

Her voice was nearly lost beneath the crackling fire. He nearly tripped over himself as he leaned forward.

“El! El－are you alright?”

She didn’t answer. He touched her face again, and then this time let his palm linger against her skin. “El…”

After a painfully long moment, her eyes fluttered open. They were distant, her eyelids heavy; she wasn’t fully conscious. She shifted beneath her blankets, and then her hand appeared and grasped his wrist weakly.

“Warm,” she croaked. He winced.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. I wish I could…”

Her eyes closed again with a soft sigh. He placed his free hand atop hers, holding it between both of his. Her skin quickly warmed, cradled between his own.

Dimitri went still. He looked at her. Her face was peaceful but he could still detect a faint tremble in her fingers.

Should he…?

In the best case scenario, it would help. In the worst, it wouldn’t, and she might be angry at him.

Thinking of it like that, he quickly made up his mind. Edelgard was pragmatic; he could almost guarantee that she would be at least a little annoyed with him, but with her health in question, she would understand. He also liked to think she trusted him enough not to doubt his intentions.

He had already changed for the evening, so he walked around to the other side of the bed. Drawing the top blankets back, and then carefully unraveling the two swaddling her, he hesitated only a moment more before sliding into the bed with her.

It was basic survival knowledge, taught to probably every person born in Faerghus from a young age. Fire wasn’t always readily available, nor shelter, but as long as one kept to the sensible rule of _never travel alone_ , sharing body heat could mean the difference between life and death in the Faerghus wilds.

Reminding himself of that, Dimitri didn’t feel _quite_ as guilty as he moved closer, until he was flush against her back. It was an odd sensation. He hadn’t slept in the same bed as anyone since he was a child, so he hardly had any memory of what it felt like to rest against a warm body, but there was still something innately, definitely _off_ about the way Edelgard felt cold even through the layers of their clothes, how it was cooler beneath the covers than above them.

Undeterred, he pulled the blankets up over them both. Immediately he felt Edelgard shift in response－not pushing him away, like he expected, but moving closer, pressing herself back against his chest even as she burrowed deeper into the blankets. She sighed sharply, the unconscious sound one of contentment, and Dimitri dared to think that he might have been right to do this, after all.

After a moment of debate, he slipped his arm over her side and wrapped it around her middle. Her fingers were like ice as they immediately latched on, but in no time at all they had acclimated to his warmth.

Minutes passed without further movement or any incident. Dimitri relaxed, watching his breath gently stir her hair.

He had been convinced that he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, as stressed as he was about her wellbeing. As he lay there beside her, already uncomfortably warm but too relieved and hopeful for her sake to care, he soon grew drowsy and realized that wouldn’t be a problem.

* * *

Dimitri awoke alone.

That was his first impression, anyway, which was why nothing seemed amiss, as half-conscious as he was.

Then something－everything－felt off. He was hot－there were too many blankets－he was wearing more than he usually did to bed－and even when this drowsy, he could feel the tingle of someone watching him, the weight of a presence close by.

He sat upright quickly, body tense as he blinked in the dim glow of muffled sunlight.

Edelgard sat beside him. In this bed－his bed? No, her bed.

Ah. Right.

She had her back against the headboard and was watching him with a neutral expression. For a long moment they regarded one another in uncertain silence.

Dimitri spoke first, although not very well.

“I’m－I’m sorry. I thought I could－I wanted to－”

“I know what you did.” Her croaking voice betrayed no emotion, but her face was open and thoughtful. Her eyes, while attentive, were soft. “Thank you.”

Dimitri blinked. He had detected gratitude there, but he hadn’t expected her to voice it. “I…” He cleared his throat, shaking the last of the sleep from his voice. “It was nothing. If I was of any help, I’m glad.”

She looked slowly around the room, and then at the door to his room that he had left ajar. “No guards,” she observed.

“I didn’t see a need for them.” He hadn’t even thought about it, truthfully. He had been too wrapped up in his concern for her to consider the possibility that she would take advantage of his vulnerability.

Even if it had occurred to him, he knew he wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Nor did he post any guards after that. There were enough knights patrolling the halls that she wouldn’t make it very far in the unlikely event she tried to escape, but even that was probably unnecessary. Where would she even go in her condition? Stepping outside the castle anytime soon would surely be a death sentence. Neither did he see any reason for her to kill him in his sleep; doing so would be nothing more than petty, and Edelgard was above that.

With the worst of winter settling over Fhirdiad, Dimitri saw no other solution besides returning to her bed each night. He never assumed anything, always asking for her consent before so much as crossing her bedroom’s threshold, but she never turned him away.

Each night was similar to the first. Edelgard was—mostly—a still sleeper and they would usually remain relatively unmoved throughout the night, although occasionally she would roll over towards him and hunker in close.

(And there were the nights she thrashed and cried out and awoke in a freezing sweat. Dimitri would break their unspoken rules then, holding her and looking into her eyes and reassuring her softly until she knew where she was and remembered she was safe.

They never spoke of it afterwards.)

The routine benefitted him as well, forcing him to turn in at a reasonable time in the evening rather than working too late. A few times he (apologetically) brought the work with him, reading papers by candlelight while she slept curled up against his side. For the most part, however, he went to sleep when she did. Whether because of her presence or something else, he slept better these days, his nightmares ever present but not as draining as they once were.

“You know you can’t keep doing this,” she said one evening.

He was already sitting in bed while she brushed the tangles out of her damp hair near the fireplace. Even a warm bath could be a problem for her, with any lingering water threatening to grow cold afterwards and agitate her, but they must have helped somewhat, since she bathed often and seemed to be in a better mood after that.

Dimitri didn’t immediately answer.

“Have you decided what you’ll do with me?” she asked. “I can’t imagine your council will wait forever.”

He knew that too well. His decisions to spare her life, to keep her in the castle, and to keep her so close to himself had all been met with concerned resistance. He couldn’t blame them, but he had refused to back down on the issue.

“I’m sure you’ve come to the same conclusion I have,” he said finally. “You can’t stay in Faerghus. If your condition declines even slightly…”

She could die.

He didn’t want to say it, but it was the obvious and painful truth.

“That’s all I can say for certain,” he added after a moment. Her safety came first. The details of where she would be moved could be ironed out later, depending on the progression of the political climate in the meantime. She couldn’t go anywhere before the spring, anyway; travel would be much too dangerous in this weather.

Edelgard watched him silently, and then returned to managing her hair. He took that as indication that she was satisfied with his answer.

When she joined him a minute later, he asked, “If you had no limitations, what would you do now?”

She glanced at him as she tugged the blankets up to her waist. She didn’t lie down yet, but seemed to consider the question seriously.

“Assuming ‘no limitations’ still takes my current state into account… I would start where I could. Return to the Empire, assess its situation, and decide where to stand. It may be part of the Kingdom now, but I’m sure you’ve realized assimilating and reconciling the two isn’t a simple matter.” She drew her knees up to her chest. “I would keep moving forward.”

“I see.”

She shot him a questioning look and he smiled apologetically. “It’s a fine answer. I expected as much. But I had hoped you might be a little more selfish with your ideal future.”

She propped her head on her fist, now clearly curious.

“I just mean that... you’ve done so much, El. You’ve been _through_ so much. There’s no need to push yourself further, especially if you’re miserable with things as they are.” He caught her gaze and held it. “Perhaps it would be amiss of me to think you would ever settle down completely, but… you deserve to do so, if you choose.”

Her stare turned calculating for a moment. “Settle down? As in…?”

“Retire from politics. Leave the burden of reconstruction to others and just… rest. Do what you will with your life, for yourself.” He shook his head. “But I understand. You aren’t the sort of person to find happiness that way. Not while you could still make a difference.”

“I’m a political prisoner of the Kingdom,” she reminded him. “If _you_ choose, I could live such a life regardless.”

“I wouldn’t force that on you,” Dimitri countered immediately. “Only time will tell if I’m able to restore any power to you, and in what manner—but if influence is what you wish for, I can do that much. Even if no one else knows you have my ear.”

He had been hoping to build her up to such a station over time—to repair her shattered reputation and one day introduce her as an ally rather than a public enemy or simply a reformed prisoner. Even if she only advised him on matters regarding the Adrestian territory, that would be an enormous help, and it would give her a purpose, besides. A way of moving forward rather than idling restlessly for the remainder of her days.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pause, “I shouldn’t be bringing this up now.”

“I appreciate your concern, but be sure to keep your priorities straight. You shouldn’t put my needs before the country’s.”

“I’m not,” he answered reflexively, too used to saying as much to his advisors.

“You expose yourself to me every night. If I wanted to kill you, it would be simple.”

“But you haven’t. And I know you won’t.”

Edelgard sighed quietly. “You can’t prove that. You’re making a choice—taking a risk—based only on emotion.”

“Was I wrong, then? Have you once considered taking my life these past few weeks?”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Which is what?”

“That you’re a sentimental fool.”

“I’ve been aware of that for quite some time.”

The corner of her mouth actually twitched. She sighed again through her nose. “You could just as easily have assigned a maid to me,” she pointed out, “and yet you volunteered yourself. The king of a nation, exposing himself, taking time out of his day to see personally to an enemy when he has no time to spare as it is…”

Dimitri frowned. “I don’t see you as—”

“I know. And that’s the problem.” She looked at him sternly. “You’re as subtle as an ox, Dimitri, and I’m not blind.”

The silence that followed was heavy and uncertain. Dimitri looked away, unsure how to answer. Was it even worth denying what he felt? Had he insulted her, thinking she wouldn’t realize?

“I…”

“I’m not saying anything about our arrangement needs to change. I’m grateful… that it’s you and not a stranger.” Her voice started to grow thin. She was reaching her speaking limit for the night. “But be aware that there are people who would take advantage of you in a heartbeat. So be more careful from now on.”

She turned away, preparing to lie down like usual.

“El—” He hooked his fingers in the crook of her arm and she stopped. She didn’t look back, but she was listening. “Wait.” He fumbled with his words before managing, “Are you going to leave it at that?”

“There’s nothing else to say,” she replied, still not turning. “I told you, nothing needs to change.”

Dimitri winced. “That… is your answer, then?”

She hesitated for a long moment. “That’s all it can be.”

She didn’t pull away. He didn’t let go, of either her or that glimpse of hope.

“El. Look at me. Please.”

She did, slowly, leaning back on her elbow just enough to see his face.

He searched hers for a hint of anything. Finding nothing, he murmured, “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Something in her expression cracked as she frowned. “You’re king. You don’t have that kind of liberty with public opinion.”

“I am king,” he agreed, “and anyone who wants to tell me who I can or can’t be with will have to explain to me why he has any authority in the matter.”

“ _Look_ at me,” she hissed. “Look at what I am now.”

“I’ve been looking all this time. It doesn’t matter what—”

“It does. Do you truly want someone so dependent on you for the rest of your life? Who can’t even leave this room for months at a time?” Her voice was strained but calm. She was being rational, of course, levelheaded and logical while he was anything but.

Dimitri opened his mouth to argue, only to quickly shut it again. He would be willing to compromise, but what about her? Did she want such a life, suffering discomfort and risks to her health every winter? Or only seeing each other for parts of the year, should she relocate to a safer climate?

That wasn’t even including the political side of things. _Sentimental fool_ was right—Dimitri was willing and desperate to trust her, but he was the only one, and she had yet to actually prove that her interests now aligned with his own. If she could, and in the best-case scenario she found a place in the public eye again, that would be one thing; otherwise, did she want to end up like her mother, smuggled away for the rest of her days to avoid scandal?

Maybe this was her way of answering without needing to be asked.

“...If that isn’t what you want, then no,” he said at last, quietly. He let go of her arm, but Edelgard remained where she was, still watching him.

“It isn’t always about want,” she replied in a low voice. “Not for people like us.”

_People like us._ That could have meant so many things. Dimitri decided he wouldn’t ask, that he didn’t want to know. All he cared about was her, here and now, in the time they had.

He realized she was shivering faintly. Even he could feel the cold of the night seeping in to fight the warmth in the room at this point. Tenderly, he touched her cheek and found it freezing.

No, he decided. Even if she did agree to such a life, he couldn’t ask that of her.

“Perhaps not.” He smiled slightly, solemnly. “But I’ll keep hoping, El. It brought me this far.” They still had the future ahead of them. There was still hope for a cure, a change of fortune, something. Anything.

She looked as though she wanted to argue that, as well, but after looking over his face for a moment, she turned into his hand and breathed an amused sound. “Do as you will.”

Her lips, at least, had a hint of warmth in them. He brushed his thumb over her nose—cold—and his fingers beneath the curve of her jaw, and then along her earlobe—all cold. Her mouth was the exception.

Her lips suddenly parted as if to speak, but she said nothing. He glanced up and found her staring at him and he realized he’d been staring at her, her mouth, and thinking too much about how it felt, how it might feel.

Before he could formulate an apology, her bright eyes moved, glancing down. Towards his mouth? And then back up. The glance repeated, lingering this time, and Dimitri’s hand slipped further back to cradle her head as she tilted it up and he leaned down.

Whether it was _him_ or his warmth that she seemed so eager to drink in, Dimitri didn’t stop to wonder about. He kissed her deeply, eagerly, hungrily as he matched her fervor, intent on warming every corner of her mouth the moment her lips opened to him. Her hands were tight and desperate on his shoulders as she pulled him down and he obliged, of course he did, settling on top of her beneath the blankets and earning a sigh that made his skin buzz, a low moan that made his blood rush.

He trailed kisses down her throat as though chasing the taste of her that he would never reach. His hands caressed her thighs through her thick gown, clumsy and rough, but her grip in his hair and her stuttering breaths encouraged him when her voice couldn’t.

He couldn’t have said when he began to grow hard, when she started rolling her hips against him, or when he started unbuttoning her gown. Perhaps it was the maddening heat in the room and beneath the blankets, but he felt feverish, his thoughts far away, and his only concern was to keep going and keep getting those sounds out of her, to let her leech as much of the warmth from his body as she needed, however he could give it.

So he received a rude awakening when Edelgard caught his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, stopping him on the third button.

“Don’t… take it off.” Her voice was like a cold breeze, so unbelievably quiet and frail. Dimitri looked up to find her avoiding his gaze, her lips redder than usual and pressed into an uneasy frown. “Not there.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up to look down at her. “El.” Her fingers loosened and he took hold of her hand, kissing her cool knuckles. “I want to see you,” he breathed against her skin. “All of you.” He kissed her again and felt her pulse skip in her thin wrist. “I won’t look away.”

She held his gaze for a few rapid heartbeats, and then gave his hand a brief squeeze in reply.

Unlike when she’d shown him before, there was nothing beneath her gown but skin. Carefully, he worked it down to her hips, her thighs, and then stopped to take in the full, unobstructed sight of her—every scar, burn, and scale.

He was glad he’d seen it before. It allowed him to smother the initial flickers of sadness and sympathy, and instead whisper honestly,

“You’re beautiful, El.”

She stared at him. There was no skepticism in her face, only wide-eyed surprise as she realized that he meant it.

Grazing his knuckles from her collarbone all the way down to her navel, he asked softly, even as he trembled with restraint, “Will you have me?”

He turned his gaze downward as he waited for her answer, drawing circles in her skin. At this angle, the dark scales shimmered like gold in the firelight. He could smell her natural scent mixed with the soap of her bath as well as something else, something faint and different and heady. It was all rather pleasant and comforting, but also unbelievably arousing.

“One condition,” she whispered. She brushed his hair aside as he looked at her again. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

Dimitri chuckled, although it came out as more of a light growl. How like her. He returned to her mouth for a slow, lingering kiss.

“As you wish.”

He would make good on that promise, once he got there.

But now he gave in to his burning desire to touch her. He curbed his strength as well as he was able as he explored the different textures of her body, first with his fingertips. Her skin was wonderfully soft, just as he had imagined. His hands were so calloused and rough that he could only barely feel the rise of her faded scars, while the burnt flesh of her chest felt rippled, wax-like. Different, but not at all unpleasant.

When he brushed over the scales along her ribs, Edelgard gasped. He immediately withdrew.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” she mumbled quickly. “No. Don’t stop.”

He repeated, watching her face. His erection throbbed as she bit her lip, a hum trembling in her throat as he stroked the patch of skin. It was dry, but it was as slick as glass, neither warm nor cold. He kept thumbing the area as he kissed across her chest, down to the tip of her breast. She moaned as he pulled her nipple into his mouth, his motions tentative as he experimented with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Her hips began to writhe beneath him again. 

When he moved to the other breast, he dragged his tongue over the stripe of scales along the inside of it. Edelgard startled him with how sharply and suddenly she arched up against him, her nails scratching his scalp.

_“Dimitri—”_

_Goddess,_ even in her broken voice, his name was a beautiful sound when it came from her lips like that, drenched in desire and demand. He guided her hips to lock them against his own and the sensation was jarring, mind-numbing, and this was still with several layers of clothes between them. He returned to her mouth as he bucked against her, groaning her name, breathing her in, chasing those noises and reactions as he learned her body, her wants, her needs.

As promised, Dimitri didn’t hold himself back.

* * *

If they were hoping to air out the tension between them that night and end such relations there, they failed miserably.

The warmth of their bodies joining seemed to be the heat she needed. Even after the flush of exertion faded, there was more color and warmth in her skin for a little while. Her eyes were vibrant again, her movements more coordinated.

So Dimitri provided. He would have given himself to her again and again no matter how good or bad it was, but it was always amazing. Even as they learned and fumbled and sometimes embarrassed themselves, even though some experiences weren’t as long or breathtaking as others, there wasn’t a single night together he regretted, nothing he would have changed. 

Unsurprisingly, Edelgard took everything he gave without hesitation or complaint. The bruises didn’t bother her and despite how small she looked and felt in his hands, despite the bed frame striking the wall hard enough to scuff the wood bare and the way he quite literally took her breath away with his brutal thrusts, it was never too much.

The first time she held him down, he understood.

Her thin frame weighed nothing as she sat astride his hips, but those small hands managed what steel couldn’t and kept his wrists pinned at his sides. The gesture was a teasing one, refusing to let him touch her just yet, but her eyes were serious as she watched the surprise and realization cross his face.

Suddenly those little moments made sense—the broken teacup, the number of quills she’d snapped, how often her gowns were missing buttons or replaced entirely. How had he not put those familiar pieces together before now?

In reply, he only smiled at her. This, too, was beautiful because it was _hers_ , and he had no words for the strange sense of kinship, of relief, that flooded his veins at the thought that there was someone as strong as him, someone capable of _reining him in_.

* * *

Springtime arrived sooner than Dimitri would have guessed, and with it, Edelgard’s health improved drastically. Even on chilly days, she was more alert, more active, and didn’t need to smother herself in blankets, although she still dressed warmly. While she was as reserved as always, he could tell her mood and her disposition were in a much better place.

Faerghus summers weren’t the hot, sweltering things that the southern territories put up with, but it was warm enough for her to open windows during the afternoons. She pinned back the curtains and enjoyed the sunlight spilling into the room and onto her skin, which she could now bare for more than moments at a time.

She didn’t need his heat anymore, but they still shared beds and the intimacy that came with it. The warmer the days became, the hungrier they were for each other, but Dimitri couldn’t have said whether her recovery or the rapidly approaching date of her departure was to blame.

In the final month before the journey south, they spent many hours talking and planning. Edelgard didn’t exactly hide her displeasure when the first stage of her transfer was proposed, but she understood the reasoning and hadn’t argued. As ever, she kept her eyes turned forward and focused on what she could do.

During the week before, they hardly spoke of the upcoming journey at all. Dimitri would return to their joined bedrooms for the evening, where they would spend the time in each other’s arms one way or the other, whether in passion or simply resting, talking about nothing of great importance.

The night before they were to depart, Edelgard gave voice to what had been on both their minds.

“This is the last time we’ll be alone together for quite some time.” Her voice hadn’t recovered since winter. At this point Dimitri suspected it was a permanent change, but he was used to it and no longer found it out of the norm. “And it’s most likely our last night together.”

He caught her meaning. As much as he wanted to interject with optimism, he refrained. It wasn’t fair to hold her to a slender hope, nor to ask her to compromise. Neither was it realistic to think someone in his position could wait forever.

“It may be so,” he agreed grimly.

She took his hands in hers and stared up at him confidently, patiently. As always, her resolve was steady and unfettered by emotion, no matter how much she might have been feeling right then.

“Then let’s make sure we remember it.”

That was all the encouragement he needed.

What followed wasn’t a slow, forlorn farewell. It was rough and desperate and messy. It left bruises and scrapes, split lips and broken skin. It was frustration and heartache and at least a little anger. It cursed their fates and it welcomed the bittersweet memories they would carry after.

It guaranteed a longing they would never be able to fill after tonight. They both knew it. They both chose to drown in it, anyway.

“Harder this time,” Edelgard panted when they paused to catch their breaths, their bodies still trembling with carnal echoes. “I want to look back on tonight... and know you’ve never fucked anyone else as hard as you did me.”

Surely they had already accomplished that much.

As much as his heart ached at the thought of _anyone else,_ Dimitri smothered the implication and forced everything out of his mind except her flushed face and their hot skins sticking together and the lust already building between his hips.

Once, twice, again and again until it all blurred. Even when her voice faltered, when his muscles burned and his lips were numb from crushing hers, they left their marks on one another and confessed what they couldn’t with words because then it would be too real, too irreversible.

There was no cuddling in-between, no casual pillow talk, no rest except for what little time their stamina and oversensitivity needed to reset. Then they were lost in each other again, hiding from one another in plain sight because sex was easy. It was straightforward. Once it ended, it ended, but all the feelings that went with it were much messier, and would linger much longer than the bruises on her thighs and the welts on his shoulders.

* * *

Garreg Mach hadn’t changed at all in the last year.

The evidence of wartime was gone—no soldiers, no messengers running to and fro, no tents for extra forces or makeshift areas for forges and weapon storage and other necessities. The last of the ruined buildings had been restored and looked newer, but other than that, the monastery could easily have passed for its former glory in their academy days.

Byleth had changed even less. He greeted Dimitri with that rare smile and for a moment the world didn’t seem quite so unfair, nor the future so bleak. Edelgard’s expression was less warm, but not cold. Complicated, no doubt.

As in Fhirdiad, her detainment wouldn’t leave her wanting for comfort. Publicly and officially, she was the King’s prisoner of war, transferred to the Archbishop’s jurisdiction for the sake of rehabilitation and making amends with the Church. In truth, Dimitri was asking an enormous favor of his friend: to keep and treat her as more of a guest, under the eye of the only person he trusted to be with Edelgard in his absence. With Rhea retired to Zanado, there was little reason to fear any more conflict than what Edelgard might have faced in Faerghus.

Dimitri would only stay the night before returning north with his escorts. He dined privately with Edelgard and Byleth that evening, away from prying eyes, and then Byleth left them to themselves—whether intentionally or no, he didn’t say before excusing himself.

The pair wandered the Archbishop’s private garden, saying little other than smalltalk. Once they’d walked the perimeter twice, Dimitri slowed to a stop. Edelgard did the same.

“I’ll do my best to expedite negotiations. In the meantime, I hope you go easy on our old professor.”

She exhaled softly with a hint of a smile. “You know he’s not fazed by anything.”

“I’m also aware of how stubborn you can be.” He smiled as she glanced at him.

“I’ve no intention of causing any trouble. But if he decides to be headstrong, I’ll put him in his place.”

“El.”

Her smile grew. “I thought this dynamic went the other way. Isn’t he the one normally fussing over you?”

“I don’t know about _fussing_...”

Silence trickled down between them again, a little lighter and more natural than before. Again, Dimitri was the one to break it.

“I’ll write as often as I can. Personally, that is.” He would write to her often enough on political matters. He had no intention of allowing the other half of their relationship to fall to the wayside. Not yet.

“As long as you keep your priorities straight.”

He couldn’t tell whether she was teasing or serious, and then he realized it was both.

“Of course,” he replied vaguely. He caught a glimpse of half-hearted annoyance in her face before she looked away, lightly shaking her head.

Another pause.

“El, I—”

“You should—”

Their words tumbled over each other and they both quickly fell silent again. “Go ahead,” she prompted after a moment.

“I… want you to know that I’m going to keep looking. I’ll never stop looking.” His voice dropped, as did his pleasant expression. “For a cure, and for those who… For _them_ ,” he said simply. There was no need to dredge up the shadows of the past. Not tonight.

“You shouldn’t promise such things.” Despite the reprimand, Edelgard didn’t—or couldn’t—hide her solemn frown. “Ten or twenty years from now, we won’t be the same people. And as the King of Fodlan, you can’t waste away your youth on a faint hope.”

“This isn’t about me,” he said quietly, firmly. “I want to help you for _your_ sake, El. Not mine. I don’t care if it takes a hundred years, or if you choose someone else in the meantime—I _will_ free you from this. I swear it.”

Not just the condition afflicting her body, but everything he couldn’t see, as well. There was no erasing the past, no purging her dark memories or banishing her nightmares, but he could fulfill at least one of her ambitions: making sure no one ever suffered again as she had. With her stationed at Garreg Mach, Byleth still at work with his connections, and communication with Claude restored, it was only a matter of time until their enemies were dragged kicking and screaming from the shadows they haunted.

“Only you could say such a thing with a straight face.” Edelgard sighed quietly, but half her smile had returned. “And... only you could convince me to believe in something like that.”

He slipped his hand beneath hers and raised it. “Then I’ve passed the most difficult hurdle, at least.” He kissed the back of it gently, holding her gaze for several rapid beats. “I won’t ask you to wait for me,” he murmured. “But if you can… continue to have faith in me, El. Trust me to cut a path for us both. Even if we can’t walk it together, I will do that much.”

She had come to a standstill with the end of the war, but until she found her footing again, he would be the blade of her ambition. They would both continue forward—perhaps side-by-side at times, and then independently at others. Dimitri knew now that it wasn’t as simple as being together. Their fate had never been that straightforward, and perhaps it never would be. Maybe they were destined to forever stand at arm’s length, separated by circumstances beyond their control.

As long as she was happy and well, he could accept that.

He loved her too much to ask for anything more.

Edelgard’s expression wavered as she pressed her lips together. Her fingers tightened around his. Her answer was simple but telling and it meant nothing less than the world to him.

“I know you will.”


End file.
